The Heart's Songs
by Cheshire XIII
Summary: ... "Captain?" "Yes, Spock?" His eyes are intense, "No one will let you die."


**Maybe, Maybe**

It was a rumor that went around the Academy, once. No one really paid it much attention at the time; who cared if Cadet Kirk could sing or not? It wasn't important.

It still isn't important, but when you're the captain of the 'Fleet's flagship, unimportant things suddenly become a big hit.

You're learning this the hard way and hating every minute of it.

Sitting on one of the observation decks, you lean against the far wall, eyes on the stars even as you pluck the strings on your old acoustic guitar. It'd been years since you've played, and the only reason you even brought the thing out for the mission was because your mom was cleaning out her little storage container.

It had been you dad's, actually.

Plucking a couple more strings, you tilt your head back against the wall, lyrics rising from the fog of your mind. Old stuff, 21st Century stuff that people usually only listened to because they had nothing better to do, and honestly? Current music sort of sucked. It was hard to sing anything new without offending someone, somewhere.

New species popping up everywhere and all that rot.

You hum at first, trying to get the sound right before opening your mouth.

_Cutting belts and magazines_

_And things you'll never need_

_The mirrors in you room at night_

_And skies that never fold_

The door slides open with a soft _click_, and without turning, you instantly know who it is. But you don't stop.

_You're sorry that it matters more_

_But who would ever tell_

_I know you need to stay above_

_But I swore_

_I swore_

_I swore_

You ignore his presence, if for no other reason than because if you don't, then you'll look at him, then you'll mess up the song. You like this song.

_It's all over your eyes_

_there's nothing you can do_

_I'm coming out my skin tonight_

_So tell me if you're ready or not_

_I'm tired of living out a lie_

_Sitting here watching things flying by me_

_And maybe maybe_

_You're gonna save me_

_maybe maybe_

_But I don't know_

_I don't think so_

He walks closer. You keep your eyes on the stars before closing them, hiding any vulnerability. This is a side you know he's never suspected you having. It's enough to make your fingers tremble as they pluck more strings.

_Last night I woke up cold_

_And I walked right out into the dark_

_And 800 reasons why kept flying into my eyes_

_Wish I could say that I killed 'em dead_

_But they're just much bigger than I_

_It's all over your eyes_

_There's nothing you can do_

_I'm coming out my skin tonight_

_So tell me if you're ready or not_

_I'm tired of living out a lie_

_Sitting here watching things flying by me_

_And maybe maybe_

_You're gonna save me_

_Maybe maybe_

_But I don't know_

_I don't think so_

_It's half my life_

_It's half my life_

You finish, plucking the last chord and it echoes with your last note. Opening your eyes, you look away from the brilliance of space and turn to him. He has an expression you've never seen before. Its both closed off and open at the same time, and very slowly he crouches down beside you, eyes taking in your surprisingly casual clothes of an old T and very worn and ragged jeans, sitting barefoot with a guitar in your lap.

You don't look like a captain. You look like an Iowan hick. It makes you grin, because you just know those eyes are mentally sizing you up and wondering if you're drunk.

"Hey, Spock."

"Good evening, Captain." He greets with the same blandness he does every time he talks to you. It makes a part of you shrink inside, but the grin remains. You've only been off-planet a month—no epic friendships are going to happen that soon, you reason. Still as he continues to crouch before you, you have the fleeting thought of no epic friendship is going to happen at all.

"I was not aware you played any musical instruments. Nor sang." He says, staring at your guitar. You look down at the worn wood and the fading rebel sticker decorating next to the saddle. On the bridge a small G is carved.

"It was my dad's." You say. His eyes flicker, and you smile, a smile that's much softer than you think you've ever given to him. "Sam hated it and Mom was going to get rid of it. I decided that I'd learn how to play, so I did. It's an acoustic, so mostly good for country songs…which I don't usually listen to." You deadpan.

Caressing the neck, you lean your head down some, as if whispering something to the guitar, and putting your face closer to Spock's. "Dad named it Gold Fire." You murmur with all the exasperation a son feels when their parents do something stupid, but there's a lingering sadness.

Spock pauses. "Do you play often?"

You glance up at him, then shrug. "No. I locked it up in storage a couple years ago, so up until we left port it was still in Iowa."

"And singing?"

Ah, he's heard the rumors, you realize. Raising a brow, you strum a little tune. _"I'll show you how leaderships looks when taught by the best."_ You sing, and he twitches up his own brow in a flat, though slightly amused, look of his own. You grin.

"I will take than as a confirmation."

"Every once in a while. Used to do it a lot back in the Academy." Then, of course, you got caught up in the Kobayashi Maru and how to beat the test. You won't admit just how difficult it was to over-ride Spock's original program.

His eyes flicker, like he knows what you're thinking. He probably does; he's become rather good at reading your thoughts in the past month. You've become rather good at reading his face. Some how you two still keep missing the mark, though.

"And now?" He asks as he stands. You shrug again and look thoughtful.

"Maybe one day I'll play for the crew."

He tilts his head briefly. "I believe they would…appreciate it." He walks to the door, pausing and turns his head to look at you. "And Captain?"

"Yes, Spock?"

His eyes are intense. "No one will let you die."

He leaves. He leaves you staring, eyes widened and mind blank. He leaves you with your chest burning and tightening. He leaves you alone, and you look out the observation glass, fingers plucking at chords as a smile slowly appears on your lips.

* * *

A/N: I had writer's block for my other story Stolen without Intentions... So, yeah. Originally this story was supposed to be 10-chapters, but I'm a little iffy about continuing, especially with this style. It might still be continued...but don't count on it. =__=

The main song is 'Maybe Maybe' by Nico Stai (Which you should totally listen to) and the snippet is 8 Easy Steps by Alanis Morissette.


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